I wait in the chair. I know what’s coming. Every Sunday is the same: he comes in, he wipes my teeth with a cloth, and presses a wrench to them. Lightly. I don’t know why that’s his fetish, and I know he has others, but for me, that’s what he does. I’m the patient, he’s the dentist. He even looks the part, with his scrubs and glasses. I just have to sit here for him and when it’s over, no more than two minutes, he gives me $200. One of my highest paying clients for the time, and I don’t even need any preparation.

I hear his footsteps now and ready myself. He likes me to act like I’m numb and just coming out of a deep sleep. Only this time, he doesn’t have a wrench in his hands: he has a drill.